Defected
by FallenStar22
Summary: Post-war. When the Slytherins are offered reintroduction into society by befriending the Gyffindors, are both sides willing? "I will be willing to do whatever it takes it reassure the safety of me and my family."  "Do we have a choice? I just wanted to know whether we were the Ministry's new puppets." Dramione, Theo/Daphne but not relationship-centric, it's a slow moving fic.
1. Chapter One: Introductions

_**Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**_

To judge someone at the age of 11, to judge them, to set their future course so young, seems to me to be a very harsh thing to do. And it doesn't take into account the fact that we do change and evolve. A lot of people are, at 40, what they weren't at 11.

**- Joanne Rowling in MN/TLC chat.**

* * *

**Defected**

**Part 1: The Interview**

_Interview 41, Day 3, 10:47pm, Friday 8__th__ May 1998_

"Right, let's get this over and done with," said Shacklebolt, addressing the group of teenage Slytherins. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode were the last of those left in their year.

The initial plan was to interview them all separately, but these were the last lot of interviews that Shacklebolt had to do and he just wanted it to end. The sickening things that spewed out of the Death Eaters' mouths were foul and perverted any innocence the war had left. These interviews were supposed to determine those who may be rehabilitated and those deserving Azkaban. Most of the major Death Eaters Shacklebolt had interviewed over the last three days fell into the latter category, but these kids were only here because they either were children of major Death Eaters or had a role in the war. Arthur Weasley did have some concerns about bringing in those Slytherins who did not fall under the two categories specified above, but Shacklebolt believed it best to include all of those in the 'dark' house. Malfoy and Parkinson had openly proved themselves sympathisers at one point and that cast them all under suspicion.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat and cast a weary gaze over the eighteen year olds. "The first question that I am going to ask is: are any of you sympathisers of Voldemort or his cause?" He looked around expectedly but none seemed willing to answer. He knew it was a long shot, but it took even less than that for the Lestrange brothers to start their pro-Voldemort rants.

He decided to go for something a little less severe. "What are your opinions on Gryffindors?"

There seemed to be some silent conferring between Zabini, Malfoy and Nott that allowed Zabini to speak as he answered, "They are another house in our school. We are distant to them in the same way we are close to each other." The others now looked up as if agreeing with what Zabini said.

Shacklebolt nodded slightly in understanding, but was confused by the way he managed to script his answer to fit what everyone else wanted him to say. "But what of the rivalry between the two houses?"

This time Nott gave Malfoy a look and he answered for the group. "Of course there would be rivalry; they hated us for always beating them at Quidditch and in the house cup. Well, until Potter and his mates came." His face creased up in distaste and then resumed its previous expression of a perfect mask. Shacklebolt knew how pureblood families brought up their children, but he was astonished at how this calm façade was maintained even though they had been through a war.

"What are your relationships between Potter and his friends?"

A general uneasiness fell across the group. A few warning glances fell on Parkinson, but she remained still, with her posture erect and defensive.

"From your silence I grant that your opinions on those three are not positive?"

Nott spoke out brazenly this time, without those secretive glances to his housemates. "Not all of us hated them, if that's what you were thinking. Yeah, Weasley was an idiot, Potter got away with things we would have been expelled for but Granger made an okay Ancient Runes partner when she wasn't being a stuck up know-it-all. We're Slytherins. We're used to Gryffindors getting all the glory while we get all the blame. I guess it's what we have to bear for producing a dark wizard every century or so." His expression remained impassive but the other Slytherins could see his unspoken resentment.

Shacklebolt was surprised at his openness to say the least. It was the most amount of sane conversation anyone had offered over the last three days and Shacklebolt found himself ashamed of the amount of judgement he had cast on these children. For that was all they were, simply children, trapped on the wrong side of the war.

"And are you all of that opinion?" asked Shacklebolt hopefully.

Daphne Greengrass openly nodded while Davis caught onto her housemate's nod and joined it with her own. Millicent Bulstrode looked away when Shacklebolt came to her, as did Pansy Parkinson. Blaise gave some sort of agreement while the other two boys did not give any indication. Malfoy would be questioned later, but it was Parkinson he was concerned about now.

"Do you regret any decisions you made regarding them? Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy shot him a sharp glare. "I stand by the decision I made." Her stance was even more defiant than I had been earlier.

"Pansy, shut up," muttered Malfoy from next to her. Zabini gave her a small shake of the head. Greengrass' hands were gesturing to keep down.

"Do you now?" countered Shacklebolt.

She gazed at him coolly, "Potter _ran_ towards the Dark Lord willingly. He _wanted _to go to him. If we'd only done what he wanted to do, but simply earlier, then more lives would have been saved."

There was a stunned silence in the room. Pansy may have been loud, but she had never spoken about her role in the war. Surprisingly, her logic did make sense, even if it was a product of hindsight and self-preservation.

"That was a very Gryffindor-like statement to say Miss Parkinson."

Pansy frowned at being compared to a Gryffindor and looked at Shacklebolt distrustfully. "It's not a Gryffindor thing to say. It's what anyone would say if they'd lost a friend. You're not the only side to have lost friends."

Shacklebolt had the decency to look guilty; it was easy to forget that war left innocent casualties on both sides.

"I apologise." He meant it sincerely but the Slytherins' cold exterior made it hard for him to empathise.

Frustrated with the loaded questions and pathetic apology, Draco blurted out, "What do you really want from us? What was the point of bringing us all here? Most of this lot haven't even done anything. Their parents aren't even Death Eaters."

If Shacklebolt was fazed by the direct question then he did not show it. In normal circumstances, he would not dream of actually answering the question, but he was exhausted and his brain was not thinking properly. "Mr Malfoy, what I want is to go home and to wake up tomorrow to find things the way they were before the war. But I know that will never be the case, and I'm the one in charge of clearing up this mess. Believe it or not, not all Gryffindors have a hero complex; we simply adopt it when we have no other choice." He sighed heavily as he realised how misled students were by the housing system. What he did not realise, however, was that he too, was also, if not more, misled than the children were.

Draco, however, did. "Believe it or not, not all Slytherins want to start another war." He mimicked, once again, throwing Shacklebolt. "Once again I ask: why are we here?" Some of the confidence had returned to his voice and his previous drawl had started to come through. Shacklebolt began to feel like the interviewee rather than the interviewer.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing to make sound. "Rehabilitation. And reintegration into society."

Both Draco and Nott raised their eyebrows; Nott in surprise and Malfoy challenging the statement he made.

"You would do that?" asked Tracey Davis, lifting up her head. Besides Pansy, the girls had not participated much to the discussion, fitting the role of pureblooded wives.

"He wouldn't do that." Barked Bulstrode sardonically.

"I would." Countered Shacklebolt evenly.

Even though Shacklebolt betrayed no outward hesitations in his statement, after glancing towards Nott, Greengrass enquired, "For all of us?"

Shacklebolt faltered but replied smoothly, "For those willing to undergo therapy and adopt the morals and values we wish to rebuild our society with." This was the line he had hoped to deliver for three days but had not been able to. As the Minister of Magic, he had been designated the most harsh offenders to interview while Arthur and a few others had interviewed anyone vaguely related to the cause. This was the line that would begin the rehabilitation project.

"I do." Spoke out Tracey Davis unexpectedly. "I don't care what you guys say, I'm fed up with this. I want to be able to talk to the other side of my family again without being cut out by the rest of my family." She lowered her head, perhaps to hide the teary eyes caused by the catharsis of releasing her personal issues.

"Can I assume you will be willing to undergo therapy and then integrate yourself into the Wizarding society with the morals and values that we want to rebuild our society with?"

Tracey nodded, hesitantly at first, but then gaining confidence as she realised that she would not have to go back to the state of life she was in before.

Shacklebolt sensed that the frown of Daphne's face was one of deliberation rather than disapproval and prompted her gently. "Miss Greengrass?"

She nodded tentatively and gave her confirmation.

He looked round next at Pansy and addressed the question to her.

Pansy was dubious at first about the conditions and morals she was accepting, but then at eighteen, the only values she had were the dated ones passed down by her family – the ones that caused so much death and destruction. "I will be willing to do whatever it takes it reassure the safety of me and my family."

Shacklebolt nodded in acknowledgement and allowed a small smile to grace his face. Perhaps it would not be so bad after all.

Pansy added quietly to herself, "That's all we've been doing for our whole lives."

The smile slipped off the Minister's face; this would not be as easy as he had thought, it was too far rooted.

He asked the remaining as a group, hoping they would follow their housemates' decisions.

"Do we have a choice?" asked Nott brazenly.

Shacklebolt feared this question. There was no way he could send children to Azkaban, but then he could not let them loose in a society they hated. It would be irresponsible and could possibly cause an uprising.

"What would you like to choose between?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to know whether we were the Ministry's new puppets." The bitterness that was not visible before was starting to seep out.

"Mr Nott, does this mean we will have your cooperation or not?"

"It's a childhood dream to become friends with the Gryffindorks so why not?" His tone was light hearted but coupled with the unusual choice of words, Shacklebolt struggled to figure this boy out. He would definitely be one of the first to see the psychologist.

"I need you all to sign this contract. It declares that we will do all we can to ensure your protection as long as you agree to meetings with the therapist and to more interviews if needed. We can also provide you with accommodation if necessary. However, the only thing I ask is that if you would like to leave either your house or the provided accommodations, you do so accompanied by an Auror."

To his surprise, none of the Slytherins contradicted his offer. "Are you okay with that?"

"Of course we are," replied Zabini, "We're not fools, there are still people out there that want to kill us. Any protection is gladly welcomed. We'll take your offer Shacklebolt as long as we aren't abused by it."

One by one they signed the contract that Shacklebolt offered them; some feeling constrained, others feeling like they had signed the form of their release.

* * *

**Part 2: Kingsley's Speech**

_Some days later, Tuesday 12__th__ May 1998_

As Kingsley cast a weary gaze over the mass of people huddled in the rebuilt Atrium, he was just aware of how many people were relying on him to make this time around better. To heal the wound the war caused and to stop it from falling apart this time. At the same time, the number of people there was painfully small. The Wizarding population was getting smaller and smaller, the war only helping in that depletion.

"I appreciate that we need time to grieve as a community and as individuals. I believe the best way to do this is to come together as a community and rebuild the future as we want it to be, as _they_ would want it to be. We can change the future for our children- we can make sure they don't have to go through what we did."

Kingsley breathed heavily before beginning the part that he knew would be met with the most resistance, "Which is why we need to bring together every aspect of our society until 'they' becomes a 'we'. I know many people here wish to cut ties with anyone involved on the other side of the war, but that would be like cutting off an arm of our society. We need to heal this wound in us, and stand together as a united front. I ask everyone here to welcome those who are being rehabilitated back into society. As you will lend a hand to neighbours, help us bridge the gap by removing your prejudices so we can prevent a third Wizarding War."

Simply saying it would not help. People were convinced they were not the ones at fault, yet when tested, most of them would fail to not discriminate. He thought back to the interviews he himself had conducted in prejudice. Sometimes, the only thing that could convince people was proof.

"I want to talk about James and Lily Potter. They were betrayed by one of their most trusted friends- Peter Pettigrew- a Gryffindor. Not all dark wizards come from Slytherin. To blame them exclusively would be excusing people like Pettigrew who can hide under this mask of prejudice. Likewise, not all dark wizards are bad. Severus Snape is one of many Death Eaters who have defected. They have fought for the light, at the expense of more than just their lives."

* * *

**Part 3: Recruitment**

_Later that day_

Kingsley paced the length of the conference room he had been given for this meeting. He had managed to get through the speech without breaking down but it had not come across as well he wanted it to. There were some in the crowd who had understood exactly what he intimated and were not pleased at all. Some had even come up to him and forthrightly protested against the changes he had proposed. In a sense, these people were as prejudiced as the Death Eaters who contributed to the war. This prejudice would eventually kill the whole society.

Professor McGonagall was the first to enter, "Sorry Kingsley, have I disturbed you?" The Minister of Magic looked stressed and the frown lines on his forehead looked in danger of permanently being etched on his face.

"No, no worries Minerva. Come in. I was just thinking about how to bring up this issue."

"What is it?" asked McGonagall, walking further into the room. "Who else is attending this meeting?"

Kingsley stopped pacing and replied, "The kids: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna and their parents."

Upon hearing those names, Minerva swished her wand and transfigured the room into comfortable chairs.

Kingsley sunk down into an armchair and rested his head in his hands. "I want to ask them to help with the rehabilitation process."

"In what way?" Minerva could not fathom why Kingsley was so nervous about broaching the subject with the students; after all, he had given a speech in front of the entire British Wizarding population.

Kingsley was saved from answering by the arrival of the Weasley clan, complete with Hermione, Luna and Neville.

"Now you're all here I need to tell you something," said Kingsley in a blunt tone. He did not have any energy to gloss over the details like he did for the speech. "As you know, we want to rehabilitate the pureblood families and integrate them back into society." Ron and Harry stared at him blankly.

"Kingsley," said Harry, "What does that mean exactly?" He and Ron exchanged glances similar to those of the Slytherin boys confirming that they both had no clue what the Minister meant.

Kingsley had repeated that phrase so often that sometimes even he forgot what it meant. "I want you to publically appear with the Slytherin students in your year. As friends." He added the last bit when no one started actively protesting straight away.

Ron's jaw dropped open and a babble of protesting erupted.

"Be friends with them?" cried Hermione incredulously.

"Publically? What for?"

"But Minister-"

"Bloody hell."

"I don't mind doing it," came Luna's ethereal voice from amidst all the rest.

Kingsley released the mental breath he had been holding and grabbed the only bit of positivity he could. "That's what we want to hear Luna. Some positivity would be good.

"Listen to my reasoning. You all heard my speech earlier. Tolerance isn't just from one side, it's from both. That's how we're going to rebuild a community that isn't going to be at each other throats fifteen years from now. I need you, as the war heroes and heroines to be the saviours of our society and to set an example to the rest of the community."

Kingsley looked around optimistically, hoping that more than one person would take to the idea.

Hermione looked around to make sure no one else wanted to say something before she began, "Minister, I see your point but to become friends with them? Is that even possible?"

"Why do you say that Hermione?"

"Because they're a different house, we're not like them at all."

"Hermione," interrupted Luna, "I'm a different house and we get along fine. What's so different about the Slytherins? They possess a few more Umgubular Slashkilters than normal but that's okay."

Hermione blushed as she realised the error in what she had said.

"That prejudice is exactly what I've been talking about," continued Kingsley. "Can I ask you to get over it for a few meetings just to give them a try? I think you'd be surprised by how similar you are."

Harry nodded slightly and after being nudged by the Boy-Who-Lived, Ron also conceded. Hermione reluctantly agreed as did Ginny and Neville.

Kingsley took out a piece of parchment and handed it to the main trio. "This is a list of students I want you to help rehabilitate. Think about it and tell me if you have any ideas."

He attempted a smile to encourage them and they grimly smiled in return.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, but we really don't have any other choice."


	2. Chapter Two: Acquaintances

_**Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**_

* * *

**Defected**

**Part 4: The Chosen Two**

_A week later, Tuesday 19__th__ May 1998_

The Chosen Two sat opposite each other at a table for two in a Muggle pizza parlour near Diagon Alley. Not knowing what to do initially, they had opted for a walk around the main Wizarding town but the press had hounded them, desperate for the first sighting of a Death Eater after the war. Draco claimed it was more because he was in the company of the Saviour than his former Death Eater status, but he still felt uneasy at the negative stares he knew were directed at him.

They eventually retreated into Muggle London when it became clear that the constant camera flashes and lack of topic prevented conversation. Harry suggested getting a pizza when they stopped outside The Leaky Cauldron and Draco agreed happily, not passing up on the opportunity to get some unhealthy food.

After ordering, they sat there in silence for a while once they had exhausted the topics of the weather, Quidditch and pizza toppings. Not able to handle the awkwardness of the conversation, Draco asked, "What do you normally talk about? With Weasley and Granger?" He leaned his elbows on the table, genuinely curious about what the Gryffindors talked about all day. Yeah, the girls nattered for hours, but Potty and Weasel were boys (or so they said). Boys were not supposed to talk that much, even Quidditch had its limits.

Harry shrugged; it was not something he had ever thought about before. His two best friends were always there for him, he did not need much else. "We don't really think about making conversation, it just sort of happens. At school, it's just the normal stuff about homework and lessons and stuff. I guess even from first year we had research to do so we would share what we found with each other. Ever since then we've always had something to work towards. Now the war has ended…"

He trailed off, not wanting to admit that he felt a bit like a loose end. Ron had Hermione to pursue, while she was busy trying to learn all she had missed the previous year. Despite Professor McGonagall telling them they could reenrol when the school was rebuilt, Hermione insisted she needed to study for the next year in preparation, despite already knowing more highly advanced spells.

The Burrow was the closest thing he had to a home aside from Hogwarts, but with survivors floating around offering to help, the guilt was impossible to escape. It hid in the heavy sighs people issued when they thought no one was around; in the blank looks and the red-rimmed eyes. He had lost his parents, his godfather, his headmaster and his favourite DADA teacher. Mr and Mrs Weasley did their best to fill the absent roles in his life, but he knew they needed space to grieve for Fred.

Draco cleared his throat nervously, "Potter, if I may ask, why did you agree to do this?" The Draco Harry had previously seen was guarded and misanthropic, but today he seemed open and genuinely wanting to understand the people he had tormented.

When Kingsley first suggested the idea of befriending the Slytherins, he thought it awful. Seven years of growing up with Slytherins, the insults, all the jinxes and hexes they had thrown at him protested at even the mention of becoming friends.

The first time he had heard of Slytherin house, it was spoken of in admiration from the very boy in front of him. The second: a factory for evil. The third time, he was told that it would take him to greatness, and if he had not been forewarned, he might have just ended up dressed in green.

"The first day of school, the day we got sorted, something happened that most people don't know about. I was almost sorted into Slytherin. It was only because I followed my parents' footsteps and the advice given to me that I chose Gryffindor. Just like you did really."

Draco was stunned. To hear that the Golden boy had almost been sorted into Slytherin changed every opinion he had ever thought about him. The world famous Harry Potter, the Chosen One, could have been one of them. Subjected to prejudice from all teachers except Snape, and most likely expelled by fourth year at least. Shocked by the revelation, he took a swig of his drink, eyes never leaving the boy across from him.

Draco tried to speak but he could not form a coherent sentence. "Wow." He finally commented.

"Yeah," agreed Harry, giving Draco a small smile and a laugh.

Thankfully, the pregnant pause was broken by the arrival of their meal, and being boys, they devoured it almost immediately. When it came to paying the bill, Harry insisted that Kingsley had given them money for this exact purpose and did not listen to Draco's protests that he would not live off the Ministry if he could help it.

They walked together until they reached a shadowed alleyway to apparate. The Auror that had been assigned to chaperone realised their intention and followed them in.

Draco faced Harry and said, "It's been alright Potter, thanks."

Harry replied with a pat on the shoulder, "Yeah. Just don't go round telling everyone my secrets, I've got a reputation to uphold." He smiled good humouredly before nodding and Apparated away.

"Are you ready to leave Mr Malfoy?" Due to his direct involvement with the Death Eaters, Shacklebolt deemed it prudent to enforce an anti-Apparation binding on Draco until he could be trusted. He nodded his confirmation and the Auror Apparated him back to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

**Part 5: ****Housewarming**

_The next day, just before noon, Wednesday 20__th__ May 1998_

Ron nervously knocked on the door of the address he had been Apparated to. It was the first time he had been there, and the converted office contrasted starkly with the warmth of his own home. He had not wanted to come, but Mrs Weasley had firmly taken him by the arm and walked him out of the house to the Apparation point.

She regularly brought food over to the Accommodation upon finding out that Daphne had exploded some potatoes because she forgot to poke them. Ever since then, she popped over once a day, sometimes even twice, with food, cookbooks and fresh ingredients. Ron had heard that the lasagne she had taught Parkinson and Greengrass had gone down extremely well and now Zabini wanted to help as well.

The first few times the whole household had to deal with hearing her rants about how even young pureblood witches and wizards should be taught how to cook. As a result, Ron had been in the kitchen peeling potatoes and carrots all week. Hermione even used that as an opportunity to recruit Mrs Weasley to S.P.E.W.

Today she had sent him over with a medical kit and the ingredients to make spaghetti. Mrs Weasley had tried to convince him to visit by saying he would be better company to the group of teenagers than she would. She would not have been able to persuade him had Harry not commented that everyone except him had contacted someone and if he did not make an effort with the Slytherins he would not be able to come to the next debriefing with them.

The teenagers deliberated over the list of names for almost a week so they could avoid getting in contact. Kingsley got so impatient he assigned them a partner and set a deadline: if they did not get in touch by the end of the week then they could not be part of the Order. The others had all arranged meetings with their charges except Ginny. She had been running errands to the Accommodation and so Mrs Weasley said she could be exempt from individual meetings for now.

Harry had been surprisingly positive about his meeting with Malfoy yesterday. He had not said much except that Malfoy had not been a prat and that he had misjudged him. He also said to give him the benefit of the doubt, which did not make much sense considering what an idiot he had been.

Daphne Greengrass was the one to open the door, smiling at him unexpectedly. "Oh, hello Ronald. I thought it would be your mum; has she come with you?"

Ron winced as he replied that she had not, Daphne's face fell and an awkward silence fell between the two.

"Here." Ron shoved the bag out in front of him, trying to prove that he had a reason to come other than just standing in the doorway awkwardly.

Daphne took the bag with thanks and looked at the contents before placing it on the worktop in the kitchen. "You honestly don't know how lucky you are to have your mum's cooking every day. She's the most amazing cook." She gave him a smile and began putting the food in the fridge and the medicine in the cabinet.

"Yeah, well it sours it a bit when you have to help chop all the vegetables for hours," grumbled Ron.

"I know," replied Daphne with her back to him. "I have to make the meals for us now, remember?" She turned around and gave him a pointed stare.

"Um, yeah sorry," mumbled Ron awkwardly. He stood there for another few minutes while Daphne started the dinner preparations trying to work up the courage to say something. "Is- is Goyle around?" He winced at the question himself; it sounded so out of place.

Daphne turned around and gave him an inquisitive look. "Greg? Yeah, let me show you his room."

He followed her self-consciously through the main living area and down a dim looking corridor. Hermione had told him that it was a converted office and the dull interior displayed it down here.

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and spun towards him. "Just be," she paused, trying to think of a better word than 'gentle' to use with young hormone driven lads. "…careful with him. He's still a bit, you know, after," she finished her sentence with awkward shrugs and left him to find out for himself what she was talking about. He knocked on the door cautiously and opened it after hearing a grunt that he took to be a yes.

"Um, hi," said Ron. If talking to Daphne had been awkward, then talking to Goyle was a hundred times worse.

Goyle's eyebrows creased in a confused expression and Ron felt compelled to explain that he did not just drop by for a girly chat.

"Just dropped off some food. Was told to say hello. I'm off. Bye." He released his brief sentences in a series of short breaths and then escaped the oppressive room as quickly as he could. Back down the corridor and past the kitchen; he mumbled an awkward goodbye to Daphne and then left.

If one was not Ronald Weasley and actually possessed more than the emotional range of a teaspoon, then one may have discovered that Gregory Goyle was not as okay as he appeared to be.

* * *

**Part 6: A Meet of Minds**

_A few hours later, a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, Wednesday 20__th__ May 1998_

An outsider may have mistaken them for childhood friends who had changed so much they did not have anything in common anymore. One was perfectly manicured with a made up face and dyed blond hair falling softly around her face. The other had frizzy brown hair and eye bags under her eyes from the nightmares she had not wanted to relive. A passer-by would not notice that the girl daintily drinking her tea had a smile painted on her face almost as realistic as the dreams she spun to escape from her nightmares.

After fifty seven seconds of uncomfortable tea sipping and frequent glances out of the window, Hermione could not stand the calmness that Greengrass possessed. Serene and perfectly poised, she knew when to smile, how to charm certain redheads. Ron had spoken as much as he could about the blond haired girl to convince everyone that he was being nice to them, but it had irritated Hermione to no end.

"How can you sit there, with a smile on your face like we're best friends? The cameras know we're not talking, they're not stupid." Hermione muttered across the table. The smile on the blond girl's face disappeared.

"A picture means a thousand words. One shot of us smiling will provide all the conversation we need."

Hermione was smart enough to know that Daphne was right. For Kingsley's plan to work, they needed to appear as if they were becoming friends.

"And besides," continued Daphne, "It wouldn't kill you to become friends would it?" The Gryffindor girl surprised her; she assumed that by instigating a meeting she wanted to become friends. Granger had always been someone she considered nice and when she received an owl inviting her out for a drink that theory was confirmed. Now that she was actually here, that belief had now changed.

"Alright," agreed Hermione begrudgingly. It was not that she had anything against Daphne, she just barely knew her.

Hestia Jones had apparated Hermione to a renovated building somewhere in an abandoned part of Diagon Alley to meet Daphne. The eldest Greengrass girl was surprisingly friendly and Hermione chastised herself for judging her on appearances too easily. Ginny had said her younger sister Astoria was a manipulating bitch and Hermione expected Daphne to be the exact same.

Determined to make more of an effort, Hermione smiled and asked, "Who else is at the Accommodation with you?"

She knew from Harry that Malfoy was still at his Manor and Molly had said Parkinson, Zabini and Daphne were at the Accommodation, but she did not know who else had forsaken their pride for safety.

"Everyone is at the Accommodation except Tracy, Millie and Draco. He says he wants to stay at home with his mother, but I think he's just adamant about not taking any help from the Ministry. Pansy's mother has gone on holiday so she doesn't want to be alone. Blaise's mother is either out or she brings her latest husband home and Blaise has to stay out of the way. It's easier for him here, he's more relaxed. Greg's dad is in Azkaban, he doesn't like going home. Theo," she faltered and blushed at the mention of his name. Schooling her expression, she continued, "Theo is the same as Greg really."

Hermione was surprised at those who simply did not want to go home. She would have thought that family life was important to purebloods. In a way, she was slightly envious that they could escape the atmosphere of home life. At The Burrow, there were simply too many people around who needed her for something or wanted to recount stories about how great the dead were. The moments she could slip to Grimmauld Place were ones of relief.

"Daphne, do you mind if I asked why you chose to stay?" It seemed to Hermione that Daphne was deliberately hiding the reasons for her staying by offering other information to distract her.

"I needed to get away."

Hermione tilted her head, indicating that her answer was not sufficient.

"My mother was trying to marry me off." Her tone was final.

"To whom?" Hermione pressed further. Daphne had refused to open up about her life to the psychologist and Hermione was desperate to find out more.

"Draco."

Hermione could not say she was surprised, but she was annoyed that someone so flawed could be considered decent enough to marry. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

Daphne let out a breathy indignant laugh and shook her head pitifully at Hermione. "Of course you would ask. Is it not your job after all? To befriend us and to find out as much information as you can. A perfect job for a nosy little know-it-all like you."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at pushing Daphne into answering like that, but it was masked by anger. "At least I value intelligence over looks." She spat, her voice rising in fury.

"Watch it Granger," responded Daphne. "Just because people don't flaunt their intelligence like you do, doesn't mean they don't have it." She kept her tone calm and level so not to attract attention of other people in the café. It would not be wise to reverse the intention of this meeting.

Her composure made Hermione feel like her outburst was foolish and so she tried to mask her rage. "Well then, why do you feel the need to do all of that?" She asked, gesturing at Daphne's hair and makeup.

"What?" said Daphne genuinely confused. "My hair?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, and your makeup and stuff. It's all so trivial." Hermione's hair would be lucky to be brushed once a week. Such things just did not seem important anymore. Most of the time she allocated herself to get ready in the morning was spent staring blankly in the mirror wondering what went wrong with her life.

Daphne was more than bemused. She had been taught to always take pride in her appearance, not simply to look good, but also to cover what she did not want to reveal. "What's wrong with taking care with how I look?"

"It's just after all we've been through, appearance isn't important anymore." Hermione became blasé in her anger, using superfluous arm movements to expend it.

Daphne knew that the best thing to do in such circumstances was flatter and praise an angry person to take them off the topic. "Hermione, remember the Yule Ball?"

Hermione nodded, not quite knowing where Daphne was going with this.

"Not only were you the most beautiful girl there, you also came in on the arm of the most famous seeker. Everyone was jealous of you, even the Slytherins." For the most part, it was true. There were other people there that looked just as pretty, but Hermione really stole the show by coming in with Krum. The bitching that followed lasted for days in every girl's dormitory.

"I don't get what you're trying to say."

"Hermione, you need to take care of yourself. You've got bags under your eyes and your hair looks like a bird's nest-"

Furious, Hermione began to stand up, "How can you say-"

"No, listen to me for once," Daphne interrupted, nodding her head at her to sit down. "You are the golden girl. You're the one everyone is looking towards as a role model. If people see you breaking down then how can they be expected to cope?" She softened her tone when she saw that Hermione was not taking it well. "I know you have a lot to cope with. And I know you're not really here for the reasons you say you are."

"How would you know?" sulked Hermione. No one had tried to reprimand her for not taking care of herself, if anything, they avoided mentioning anything that may upset her.

"I'm not here to hurt you. Enough people have done that already." She looked at the window and then back at the girl who was far too interested in tealeaves for someone who hated Divination.

Daphne took a deep breath and did something she would never usually do. Extending her hand towards Hermione she said, "I came here today to gain a friend. We all need someone we can trust."

Hermione eyes were full of wariness but she accepted the hand offered.

"Why do you think I could trust you more than I can trust my friends? Even if I ignore all prejudices, I've still known them longer than I've known you." Hermione could not bring herself to trust someone who was in the house associated with lies and deception.

Daphne folded her hands and began, "Because you care about them too much to let them suffer the pain you're going through as well as their own. Therapy is surprisingly useful, if you are not going to talk to me then at least talk to someone else. You are letting it erode you from the inside."

Hermione had avoided eye contact for the last few minutes. "How do you know anything about my life? How do you know anything about what I've been through? "

"Then tell me. Prove to me that you have a right to appear in public like this. Everything is about appearances Hermione, the sooner you understand that, the better."


	3. Chapter Three: The Daily Prophet

_**Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**_

**AN: I can't believe I forgot to mention this but so many thanks to my beta l0stinl0ve!**

* * *

**Defected**

**Part 7: Pictured and Published**

_The next morning, Thursday 21__st__ May 1998_

"Fuck," exhaled Blaise, throwing the newspaper down on the table before collapsing on to the sofa. He placed his head in his hand and swore again softly. He mumbled quietly to himself, not knowing what to do now.

"What's up?" asked Theo, grabbing the paper that seemed to be the source of his best mate's troubles. After quickly reading the article, he reassured, "It's bullshit, don't listen to it mate." He patted Blaise on the shoulder comfortingly. "They just write to sell a paper, it's never true."

"That's not it," said Blaise, his words still muffled by his hands. "Luna promised me things would be okay, and I know this isn't her fault, but she was so sincere in her promise. If her promises can be snapped in half by others, then what chance do we have with Kingsley's assurances?"

Nott stood around uncomfortably; hoping Pansy or Daphne would come over and console Blaise. Usually Slytherins kept their emotions under control, even when they were only with each other. Any weaknesses could be reported back to your parents, or worse, the Dark Lord if you were unlucky. Therefore, Nott did not have any practise at consoling mopey Slytherin boys who broke down after reading that their supposed girlfriend was insane.

"Pans?" he called. "I need you to come over here and help Blaise. Loony Lovegood broke his heart." He added to himself quietly, "And I have no fucking clue what to do."

Pansy shut the door behind Draco and re-joined the boys on the sofa.

"What's going on?" asked Draco. He was grateful everyone dropped the Slytherin distrust since arriving here but tears took this openness too far. It had only been a few days since he last visited the Accommodation and they were already in a state of disarray. "What's everyone crying about?"

"Don't ask," said Pansy shaking her head. She busied herself with consoling Blaise with hushing noises and by rubbing his back.

Nott took matters into his own hands and simply handed Draco the paper, not thinking it was harsh enough to warrant the response Blaise gave it. The blond boy skimmed over it, only briefly glancing at the front cover of pictures.

Without warning, Draco dropped the paper and stormed out of the room. He picked a room at the end of the corridor and disappeared into it, slamming the door shut behind him. He had blocked out most of the evening from shock that Potter had not cursed him on the spot for what he did to Dumbledore. The pictures simply reminded him that the evening brought surprises he never could have expected. Pictures of Potter wearing a green tie and green Slytherin robes kept flashing through his head. Potter being his 'friend' for five years, laughing next to him at the Slytherin table. Potter being selected for the Dark Lord's mission. Potter taking the role Draco had been forced into. Potter, who had no family left to threaten as blackmail. Potter, the hero, the one who saved them all.

If Potter had been in Slytherin, Draco may have not had to put up with Voldemort's demands. His family may not have almost been killed in the process of defecting. There was no certainty that the Dark Lord would have selected Potter to be Dumbledore's killer, but it seemed like the perverted, sadistic thing for him to do. Draco was no longer the naïve eleven year old who believed Slytherin was the best house to be in. If he had known what he knew now, then he wished he had also asked the Sorting Hat to grant him a different future. Damn Potter for always being the lucky one. The logical side of him said that he was too much of a coward to choose anything other than what his father wanted, but it was easier for him to put the blame on Saint Potter to make up for all the times Potter should have been expelled.

As Draco lay on Nott's bed, one final thought slipped across his brain: Potter had taken the choice Draco had never had the chance to take.

* * *

**Part 8: The Prophet**

_Simultaneously, Thursday 21__st__ May 1998_

A collage of pictures graced the front of this morning's paper: Draco and Harry walking a foot apart from each other; Daphne and Hermione through the restaurant window; Blaise and Luna happily having a picnic. The article that followed was not nearly as nice as the pictures.

_Pictures have been cropping up of the young war heroes out and about in Diagon Alley with some unusual companions. Are their choices in acquaintances their own or is there something else drawing them towards supporters of You-Know-Who? What must be going through the minds of our beloved idols?_

_Harry Potter was sighted in the main Wizarding town on Tuesday with Draco Malfoy (main picture, front page), a known Death Eater. Perhaps this is a publicity stunt concocted by the Minister to accompany his speech about letting the Death Eaters walk free. Either way, this has not fooled us. What we initially took for awkwardness between Potter and Malfoy may in fact have been resentment on Potter's part at having to put up with the former Death Eater. _

_Alternatively, maybe Potter was interrogating the youngest Malfoy as practise for his Auror training. The blond man remained impassive for much of Potter's attempts to draw out information- will he join his father in Azkaban? Many people certainly hope so. _

_Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio is featured having a drink with Miss Greengrass, another Slytherin in their year. While some reports mention the girls quarrelling a little, others say the girls seemed like old friends. _

_Ronald Weasley is the remaining member of the trio yet to been seen out. Does he disapprove of fraternising with the enemy?_

_Also seen out today was Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw student heavily involved in the war. When interviewed about her date with Mr Zabini, Miss Lovegood replied, "We just talked. You know as people do when they have a meal."_

_When further questioned on the topic of conversation she said, "Oh just normal things. Like Nargles and Heliopaths; he has very interesting opinions on those."_

_Miss Lovegood has been pronounced sane by the official Ministry psychologist, the same psychologist who has checked out the Young Death Eaters (YDE). Does this mean the safety of our society is compromised by the presence of possibly harmful Death Eaters?_

Kingsley paced the length of his office furiously, screwing up the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ after ripping out the article. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. Yesterday's _Evening Prophet_ had been okay; there were a few pictures of Draco and Harry in Diagon Alley together accompanied with a couple of spiteful comments, but nothing too severe. The lunch between Greengrass and Hermione had gone down considerably better; the girls pictured spending a friendly lunch in a small café in Diagon Alley. That had all been destroyed today by a few lines in the national paper.

This morning's article was simply poisonous. To condemn the children as future war starters ruined any progress they had gained the day before. He could not blame it on Luna, but he wished her words would not be distorted by people who did not understand the blond girl. Her head existed in planes that even most wizards and witches could not see.

McGonagall marched into the room, her robes swishing around her has she entered. "What's the matter Kingsley? Have you seen the paper?" McGonagall sunk down into the chair in front of his desk and stared at the torn out article. "How could they talk about my students in that way? Whoever wrote that article should go to Azkaban themselves for the amount of poison in their heart!" McGonagall sighed, "What are we going to do Kingsley?"

"We have to keep going. We have to show them that they are not like that. I'll go to the Burrow and talk to the kids about it."

He walked over to the fireplace and disappeared in a swirl of green flames.

Appearing at the Burrow, he called out for Mrs Weasley who rushed into the kitchen almost instantly.

"Oh it's you Kingsley," she said, placing a flustered hand over her heart. "I heard the Floo activate and became worried, we weren't expecting any visitors. Is something wrong?" She instinctively glanced towards the clock detailing the locations of her family, so used to checking it to reassure their safety.

Kingsley nodded, but followed with something slightly more reassuring, "No one is injured but there are some people in danger. Have you received the _Daily Prophet_ yet?"

"Not yet, Errol is getting old and is even more unreliable at bringing the post, we really need to look at getting a new post owl."

Kingsley offered the paper to Mrs Weasley and ushered her inside the living room. "Then I might as well discuss it with you all together."

"…_compromised by the presence of possibly harmful Death Eaters?" _finished Hermione, enunciating the last line of the article. "That is disgusting." She exclaimed, handing the offensive thing back to Kingsley. "Most of them aren't even Death Eaters anyway." She grimaced at Ginny who gave an equally sour look back. They may not like Slytherins, but at least they had understood the consequences to the next Wizarding generation if there was a divide.

"That is exactly my point. If you could continue seeing them, it may prove to the public that these children have reformed. Perhaps some sort of group meeting? It doesn't have to be in a Wizarding location, Muggle London is fine. We can send a photographer with you." He smiled at the kids hopefully.

Luna nodded happily and Hermione reluctantly nodded as well. Her stubbornness refused to let her avoid meeting Daphne and she felt she had something to prove to the perfectly made up blond girl.

"Bowling?" Suggested Harry. He had gone once before with Hermione and her parents and it was a brilliant icebreaker for meeting people you did not know very well.

"Perfect. I'll leave it to you to arrange it and then get back to me with the time and date. Make it soon."

Harry nodded in confirmation for them all and Kingsley felt slightly reassured that they had a plan of action to combat the newspaper's bad news.

"Ron, can I have a quick word please?" asked the Minister, leaving the room.

Ron looked back at Harry and Hermione who shrugged at his unasked question. All three followed him out of the room, unsure of what he wanted.

Kingsley looked a bit surprised at seeing Harry and Hermione as well but continued regardless, "Ron, you are the only one who hasn't arranged to meet anyone yet. I would like it if you made more effort." The article pointing out the absence of Ron had made it even more important that he befriend a Slytherin.

"I have," grumbled Ron. "I went to see Goyle like you said to."

Kingsley frowned, "Did you bridge the gap between you?" It was common knowledge that Crabbe and Goyle were not particularly liked, which was why he wanted to reach out to them now, especially as Crabbe had died.

"I tried to but he didn't want to talk to me much, maybe it's best that I see somebody else." Said Ron honestly, hoping that he would not have to talk to Goyle from now on.

"Ronald Weasley, you didn't even mention to me that you spoke to Greg," interrupted Mrs Weasley, on her way through the corridor from the kitchen. She gave him the stern mother look that instantly made him feel guilty. "I thought it was Daphne you were paired up with by the way you talk about her."

Completely unnoticed by Ron, Hermione tensed up at the mention of Daphne. Although she had decided that now was not the best time to pursue a relationship with Ron, it still hurt that he would flirt with another girl while claiming to be in love with her.

Kingsley seemed slightly annoyed at Ron's sheepish look, realising he probably had not tried as hard as he should have. As much as Kingsley hated to pressurise the children into befriending the Slytherins, to fix the problem he had created it was necessary to do so. "My condition still stands Mr Weasley. Goodbye."

* * *

**Part 9: A Clash of Brawn**

_Afternoon, Thursday 21__st__ May 1998_

"Oh, hi Daphne," greeted Ron cheerily. Yesterday's successful conversation led him to believe that perhaps Slytherins were not so bad, as long as they were pretty, blond girls by the name of Daphne. By emphasising the successes of the conversation to his mother, he had deluded himself that he was as smooth as McGonagall's spell casting. He handed Daphne the food bag and followed her into the kitchen, surprising her when his voice was closer than she realised.

"So Daphne, do you want to go bowling tomorrow night?" The question came out a lot less smoothly than it had been rehearsed. Kingsley's idea of a group outing worked well to spread the acquaintance across both groups. "As a group I mean," he hastily rectified when Daphne's face creased in confusion.

"Yeah sure." Ron was slightly miffed that Daphne was not more enthusiastic about the trip. Once Harry and Hermione had explained what it was he thought it sounded brilliant. "You do know what it is right? It's just that Her- Harry had to explain it to me, but it's really easy, don't worry." For some reason, he felt uncomfortable about mentioning Hermione's name in front of Daphne. It reminded him that he should not be flirting with another girl when he claimed his heart belonged to another.

"Yes Ronald, I know what bowling is. I did take Muggle Studies." Her voice was bordering on patronising, but as with most people, she tried to hide it while among people of lesser intelligence.

"You did what?" Ron was shocked. Quite a few purebloods took Muggle Studies to learn more about them, but to hear a Slytherin pureblood take it was unthinkable. "Why?"

Daphne shrugged. "Know thy enemy," she quoted disparagingly, using her fingers as quotation marks. She gave that excuse to her parents when she wanted to find out more about a world that could get in touch with each other at anytime, anywhere. Muggle customs fascinated her; the ideals of the upper class Victorians were similar to those of the Pureblood society, yet the time periods were discordant. She knew that the wizards and witches probably carried down the traditions, but that was what the Wizarding folk were, stuck in beliefs that were archaic and baseless.

"Anyway," she continued, "What time do we need to be ready tomorrow evening? And we will have to wear muggle clothes right? Anything specific? I'm not sure if the boys have appropriate clothing." They wore Muggle clothing sometimes but Daphne was not sure if what they had was appropriate for a social gathering.

"I'm not sure." Ron replied. "Could you tell the rest?"

Daphne nodded and then had a better idea. "Do you want to tell Greg yourself? Everyone's out but he's still here." Greg had not come out of his room except for food and going to the bathroom and the others were worried about him quite a bit. Out of all of them, he was taking it the worst. Ron was not the most tactful of people, but it would do Greg some good to see a different face.

Ron nodded reluctantly and allowed Daphne to lead him to Goyle's room again. She gave him a positive smile and then left him alone to face the awkwardness of yesterday. If he had not already given his word to Kingsley, his mum and Daphne, then he might have just ran back to the Burrow.

"Goyle?" he asked, pushing open the door. The bed was unmade and the blinds were still shut. There were a couple of empty, unwashed mugs on the windowsill and Ron could not help but feel disgusted at the obvious neglect. Even for a teenage boy his room was shocking.

"Mate, you need to clear up this mess. You can't live like this." Ron shook his head pitifully and gestured to the piles of dirty clothes.

"What do you want?" asked Goyle bluntly.

"I just came to ask if you wanted to come bowling with all of us tomorrow."

Goyle did not respond so Ron assumed he did not understand what bowling was and proceeded to describe it. "It's a muggle game," explained Ron in a slow patronising voice. "You throw a ball towards ten white pins. You've got to knock them all over."

Greg raised his head to look at Ron, who was now miming how to bowl. After shaking his head apathetically he said, "I know how to bowl, I'm not an idiot."

Ron straightened up, embarrassed, and becoming defensive because of it. "Then why didn't you say so in the first place?" He said, irritated.

"Because I'm upset. I don't want to go bowling with you. I don't want to go anywhere."

Ron's temper exploded, already vexed by Kingsley singling him out earlier. He was grieving, but he was not sitting here feeling sorry for himself all day. "Man the fuck up! You're not the only one who's lost someone. At least Crabbe didn't have much of a personality to miss." In the few seconds it took Ron to regret what he said, Greg had slammed him against the wall by his throat.

Crabbe may not have been much but he was Greg's only proper friend. Ron's outburst had triggered all the pent up emotion that he had repressed since his best mate's death.

"He was still my best friend." He said through clenched teeth. "How would you like it if Harry was no longer around?" His voice was bitter, but cracking. Before he could let too much weakness show in front of the Gryffindor, Greg stormed out of the room, past Daphne's worried questions and into the bathroom. There, he allowed himself to cry out all the emotions he was not sure how to feel anymore.

He heard the door open as light footsteps entered and came towards him. Pansy sat by him as she rubbed circles on his back, telling him to let it all out. As he cried he felt pitifully small, but some part of him knew it was helping.

Ron excited as quickly as possible, ignoring the confusion Daphne directed towards him. There was no way he could defend himself after insulting Goyle like that. His first plan was to get out of there before the pack arrived. Once out of the building, Ron started panicking; what was he going to tell Kingsley now?


	4. Chapter Four: The Shopping Trip

_**Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**_

* * *

**Defected**

**Part 10: A Buying of Identity**

_The next day, Friday 22__nd__ May 1998_

Theo browsed through a rack of jeans that Ginny had directed him to, fingering the uncomfortable, coarse fabric. Jeans did exist in the Wizarding world but more commonly in second hand clothes shops. Gladrags Wizardwear also sold them, along with fashionable band tees, but his father had thoroughly dissuaded him from going anywhere other than Madam Malkin's or Twilfitt and Tattings. Ginny had debated about taking them to Gladrags so they felt more comfortable, but considering the attention Harry and Malfoy garnered, it was safer in a Muggle mall. Harry had taken Zabini to John Lewis at his insistence for 'fine clothes', but Nott said he would prefer to go to one of the more fashionable shops the girls wishes to visit.

There was a perverted pleasure in straying from the accepted forms of Wizarding clothing and wearing cheap Muggle clothes. Nott decided the abrasive fabric might just suit his forthcoming personality. On the way into the store, he had seen a poster of a few dark haired boys in fitted jeans holding guitars and it was something about their insubordinate expressions that made them oddly attractive. After browsing through a few different racks, he found some slim legged ones and pulled them out. He had no idea what size he was – Madam Malkin sorted that out for him. He debated whether to magic out a tape measure or not, but the shop was packed with Muggles and he was sure the Ministry would pull him up for it. Despite being seventeen, the Ministry had deemed it necessary to reinstate the trace.

Nott randomly selected two sizes and looked around to see if he could see Scarhead or Weaselette. The red headed girl was nowhere in sight, presumably she had gone upstairs with the other girls. Nott weaved through a few more racks until he spied Potter and Blaise entering the shop. He quickly walked over to the other two boys, suddenly needing some comfort after all.

Potter nodded at him and Blaise held up a bag of clothing. "Got some decent things for me and Draco."

Theo nodded appraisingly and held up his own findings. He should have been embarrassed, but Potter and the others had been surprisingly non-judgmental and so his twinge of shame did not prevent him from discussing choices.

Harry looked slightly surprised at the cut of the trousers, but then nodded politely. Blaise simply smiled amusedly, used to his friend's somewhat quirky interests. Theodore Nott had not been his friend for long but recently he had come out of his shell. His brash comments and actions had sometimes upset the other inhabitants of the Accommodation, but after a brief sparring session with Draco in the living room, the others understood this was his reaction to being oppressed for all these years.

There was a long pause in which they all tried to not look each other in the eye for too long.

Harry nodded towards the checkouts and said, "Shall we go?" In his haste to say something he had not realised that Nott held up two identical pairs of trousers and not much else.

"Potter," called out Nott from behind him, still holding out both pairs of jeans.

Harry turned back and looked at him curiously.

"Um, I…" Theo faltered, "I don't know my size." He glanced around him, glaring at the Muggles who dared to give him strange looks.

Harry came over sheepishly and apologised for not realising sooner. He hardly knew his own size; his robes were bought at Madam Malkin's and most of his other clothes were Dudley's old cast offs. This shopping experience was as novel for him as it was for them.

Harry cast his eye over Nott's skinny frame and automatically discarded the pair he held in his right hand. After finding another pair closer to his size, Harry guided him to the fitting room, where he waited with Zabini for Nott to return.

Surprisingly, the trip with Zabini had not been too bad. He had been polite and grateful for the little advice Harry could give him, and for paying. It was clear to Harry that the Slytherins were offended at the Ministry paying for their excursions, but Harry reminded them it was in public interest so the Ministry did not mind. Secretly, he had overheard a conversation in which Arthur mentioned how former Death Eater families had been heavily taxed and he wondered whether that was more the case. It was not as if the Ministry had money to spare with the reconstruction of most of the infrastructure.

Wizarding clothing had confused Harry at first. Mr and Mrs Weasley always wore robes and he had seen some of the older Wizards struggle with Muggle clothing choices at the World Cup, but younger ones, like Tonks and Charlie, seemed perfectly at home. At school, everyone he knew wore normal clothes under their robes – it was simply too cold not to. He had never seen what the Slytherins wore, but judging on Zabini's reactions, smart woollen trousers and shirts were not too dissimilar.

Although he knew the Slytherins must own some Muggle clothes, Harry had mentioned the topic to Mrs Weasley after remembering the World Cup mishap. While Molly knitted jumpers for her children, she was sure pureblood mothers such as Narcissa Malfoy did not. She also did not think shops such as Twilfitt and Tattings sold anything other than expensive robes and capes. Kingsley found a way to manipulate the situation, adding that if the Slytherins were seen to be more tolerant to Muggles by wearing their clothing, then that would only be in their favour. And thus, the shopping trip idea was born.

Nott emerged from the changing rooms, clad in tightly fitting denim. He was wearing a black shirt that went surprisingly well with the jeans and Harry had to admit that the look suited him. For reasons he could understand, Nott looked shy and ruffled the back of his hair.

Blaise let at a low whistle and smiled at his friend. "Looking good Nott, looking good."

"I have to agree with Zabini on that one." The redhead was back and Nott did not like her expression one bit. He blanched at the twin smirks on her and Pansy's faces. _Why did they have to come while he was trying on clothes?_

"I've got to say Theo, the last time I saw you blush that much it was when you saw Daphne in her nightwear." Pansy looked positively devilish and Theo wished she was dangling from the Astronomy tower in only her underwear in the middle of winter. The underwear bit was more for her discomfort than out of any desire of his own. As Pansy inconsiderately pointed out, it was Daphne in her underwear that he desired.

"Go to hell Pansy," he grumbled out. He hightailed into the fitting rooms and shed his new look. Once dressed, he stared at his reflection in the floor length mirror. There was a difference in his appearance, even without his new clothes. He was confined to a building, not allowed to play Quidditch and occasionally given burnt or undercooked food, yet Theo looked so much better than he did before. Mrs Weasley had been feeding healthy food at every opportunity and Pansy had forced him to make a skin-clearing potion for himself. Usually, Theo would never listen to something Pansy said, but her newfound confidence had extended itself into caring passionately for the others. Although Greg never left his room, Pansy made sure he had cups of tea and three meals day.

Even as Theo exited the changing rooms, Pansy handed him a studded belt. He tried to ignore the lewd wink she gave him and walked over to Blaise and Harry – they at least were trying to hide their laughter.

Meanwhile, Luna, Daphne and Millicent Bulstrode were still upstairs. Millicent had been trailing after the three other girls, occasionally attempting to pull out something that might fit her. Being a big girl in a house full of porcelain dolls made Millicent virtually invisible. Due to the male only rule on the Quidditch team, Millicent could not even find an output for her tomboyish interests. Her mother had effectively ruled her out of marriage, although Millicent would not be surprised if her mother had tried to set her up with any of the boys in her house. At least she did not have to worry about any of them saying yes.

She knew she was not as pretty as Daphne or Pansy and tried to cover up her large figure by hiding it under voluminous robes. She was in robes at the moment and more than a few funny glances had come her way. Luckily, a couple of people had come up to her and congratulated her for graduating. Millicent had no idea what that meant but Harry had swiftly covered for her. She would have borrowed some more appropriate clothes from Pansy or Daphne as she had no Muggle clothes at home, but the Auror had apparated her straight to the shopping mall.

Luna watched the trail of girls from the back, examining their various behaviours. Daphne clearly knew what she wanted and browsed the racks purposefully at a slight distance from the others. Ginny and Parkinson followed, in casual conversation about Muggle fashion. Pansy had surprised everyone with her confidence and willingness to become friends. After Malfoy, Parkinson was the one to watch out for, but she had seemed surprisingly genuine. Millicent trailed behind, not having the courage or the knowledge to take anything seriously. She seemed miserable and Luna wished there was something she could do.

Pansy and Ginny were happily distracted and Millicent was so intent on trying not to be noticed that she was oblivious to everyone else. Luna made her way over to Daphne who was currently holding up a smart grey dress. Tapping her lightly on the shoulder, Luna delivered her proposal. Daphne received it well and smiled as she went searching for the item Luna had requested. She was soon back with a couple of items over her arm and they went over together to Millicent. Each taking an arm, they pulled her towards the changing rooms, ignoring her protests as they went.

Pansy and Ginny were already inside prancing around in clothes they had selected and Millicent resisted even more. Trips to Madam Malkin's lead to so many feelings of inadequacies, especially with her mother listing her many defects out loud to the store. Daphne eventually realised she would have to force Millicent to do anything and followed her into the cramped space. Ordering her to lift her hands up, Daphne tugged the swamps of material off Millicent's head. She was wearing little underneath it; a worn, fitted camisole and some briefs.

"Oh Millie," sighed Daphne. She did not sigh at the worn out clothes, or that they did not flatter her body. It was the way her shoulders tried to hide the rest of her body and she self-consciously crossed her legs to minimise her body width. Millicent shied away from Daphne only to be confronted with her reflection in the full length mirror. Millicent squeezed her eyes shut and Daphne rubbed her shoulders, trying to comfort the girl.

Luna heard the soft sobs and slipped inside the curtained room. She hung up the clothes on Daphne's arm, allowing the Slytherin to embrace Millicent properly.

"Millie," said Luna gently, placing her hand on Millicent's arm. "Can I call you Millie? I think you would be so much happier if you were a Millie. Did you know that your name means strong?" Luna's voice was soothing and Daphne was surprised to realise that Luna would make a good therapist. Perhaps that was why Blaise had fallen for her so suddenly. Her voice immediately made you feel relaxed.

Millie, however, sobbed harder and replied, "Strong just means I'm big, it's not what pureblooded girls are supposed to be, they're supposed to be fragile and vulnerable so that an affluent bachelor wishes to protect them." She burrowed further into her arms, leaning against the wall so that she could dismiss Daphne's comfort.

Daphne felt a twinge of pain, not just at being dismissed, but also at being called weak. She wasn't weak, unless weak meant being tortured for misbehaving when she was young or watching others get tortured for her when she was older. The situation had only changed because her mother did not want any unsightly scars to appear on her flawless skin.

Appearances did matter, as she had told Hermione Granger the day before yesterday, but masks hid more than they revealed and Daphne's mask was so well constructed that it was too perfect. Everyone saw the blond, vapid pureblood doll and they did not see Daphne. She regretted to use it, but Daphne once again applied her mask to prevent tears running down her face; it was Millie that needed more help, not her.

She swallowed and said the words she repeated to herself every night, "You are strong in character and you can fight this. Your appearance is only a construct, it is not who you are. You define who you are." Daphne noticed Luna give her a funny look in her peripheral vision and knew that Luna had picked up on the over rehearsed phrases.

Surprisingly to Daphne, Millie actually perked up. Luna helped persuade her into a pale lilac dress and all three turned to see the outcome in the mirror.

This is not a fairy-tale where one suddenly transforms into rose after one tiny pep talk and a dress. The dress did not hide the bulge of her stomach and exposed the flabbiness of her arms. The fabric was stretched uncomfortably over her fat and Millie felt like crying again.

Daphne wrapped her arms around the larger girl's waist and squeezed her tight. "You are still beautiful Millie."

"Let's try this green dress." Luna handed Daphne a long sleeved dress that she quickly exchanged with the purple one.

This fit a lot better than the first. The material was tight enough to pull in her flesh but not as clingy around the middle. The skirt flared out and it hid the large part of her legs. Her large bone structure contributed to her bigness and dress fell just passed her knees, slightly shorter than it was meant to.

It was not perfect; but it was different.

"Millie," asked Luna hesitantly, "Do you like it? You look very pretty. I thought you would like the colour."

"Slytherin green," she murmured. "Luna, please, change the colour." It seemed foolish to wear her house colours with pride to an event to build unity. She felt disgust at even wearing the colour. Slytherin was her home away from her family and now Voldemort had taken any comfort she found in it away.

Luna swished her wand and muttered the colour change spell. The dress turned a very Gryffindor red and Daphne raised her eyebrows at the Ravenclaw.

"What?" she mouthed back innocently. Aloud to the both of them she said, "Red is a very confidence boosting colour."

Millie felt like she had never looked better and allowed herself a small smile. If only she had the confidence to go with the dress.

* * *

**Part 11: A Brothers Meeting**

_Early afternoon, 12 Grimmauld Place, Saturday 23__rd__ May 1998_

Ron ambled back from the kitchen with a sandwich with the intention of going back to his room and playing with a snitch for a while when he heard Harry's voice come from one of the meeting rooms further down the corridor.

"…that he wrote to you first." Ron caught the end of Harry's sentence.

"Actually Harry, I instigated it. After talking to Luna about her meeting with Zabini, I decided that it wouldn't be a bad idea to get something started. He's not who you think he'd be. He's been pretty prompt at replying actually." After ascertaining that it was Neville Harry was having a conversation with, Ron decided his best mates would not mind him joining the conversation.

"That's only because they have nothing else to do in that place of theirs," contributed Ron, strolling in.

Ron was still bitter about Fred's death and he was frustrated that there was no direct retribution. He knew the Death Eaters were being punished, but nothing could bring back their ruined childhood. He did not really hate the Slytherins with the magnitude he loathed Voldemort with, but he resented his life now and he resented having to socialise with people who disliked him as much as he disliked them.

"Why not get the people who won this war to do all the restoration work while the Death Eater kids just laze around all day." Ron continued eating his sandwich, unaware that he had released his inner tension into the room.

"Ron, we've been let off pretty lightly compared to Molly and Arthur," chastised Harry. "They've been doing all this restoration work and sorting things out at the Ministry. Not to mention how many people Molly has been cooking for. You got put on cooking duty the other day didn't you? You know how hard it is."

Ron nodded and sighed in agreement. His parents were putting in all the effort they could and passed some of their responsibilities down to their children to spread the load. Although the Golden Trio had always shouldered much of the responsibility in this long drawn out war, now, it was getting too much for Ron. He wanted his previous life back, where he could relax and spend time with his family and friends, not worrying about the complete deconstruction of his life.

Ron looked down at his scuffed shoes, trying to supress the guilt he felt every time he noticed someone's hurt expression after something he had said carelessly. His hostility was an all too common occurrence these days and he equated his aggression for grief: angry that he was not as important as Harry, as clever as Hermione or useful to his parents.

Along with the stomach-twinging guilt were the psychotherapist's words that his anger was pushing everyone away and would cause irreparable damage to his relationships. As much as he could see that it was true, Ron could not hold the psychotherapist in particularly high esteem. He never complimented Ron on how well he was coping, he merely criticised his behaviour. At least Ron was not crying all day or having spontaneous breakdowns during meals. At least he got up, got ready and did things, unlike some people. He knew looking after broken people was wearying and Ron stayed away from them as far as he possibly could. The haggard look that accompanied every haunted soul in his house was even present in his therapist; he could never get a break.

Even Kingsley felt the need to criticise him. Ginny was allowed to evade these meetings because of her errands and even though Ron did the same, Molly would not excuse him from meeting the Death Eater spawn. George had been given space to grieve for Fred but no one asked Ron if he wanted to grieve. Ron had to do everything that Ginny and Harry were doing combined but he still could not do enough to please everyone.

He was never praised. Charlie was McGonagall's right hand man, heading the restoration programme and thinking of innovative ways to speed up the process. Bill was up there with him, using his curse breaker knowledge to raid the remaining Death Eater properties. Along with his scars and his beautiful wife, he was forever being complimented. Even George, depressed as he was, was commended for coping so well with the death of his brother. Harry of course took the fame and glory for beating Voldemort and Ron was just the gangly lackey. He was just the one that bailed on Harry and Hermione while they did all the work. He deserved some credit, didn't he?

* * *

**AN: **Huge thanks to my beta, **l0stinl0ve. **If you haven't already, go and check out Sherwood Florist by her, it's amazing!

I'd love to know what you think about Millie, Theo and Daphne so far so please review! If anyone has any concerns about Ron's character then please tell me as it's something a bit unsure about.


	5. Chapter Five: Amity and Enmity

_**Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**_

**AN: Many thanks to my wonderful beta l0stinl0ve and everyone who reviewed encouraging me to write quicker. (: It certainly got me through my exams! Please review and tell me what you think.**

* * *

**Defected**

**Part 12: Honesty**

_Mid-afternoon, Accommodation, Saturday 23__rd__ May 1998_

Draco knocked on the door, feeling tense as the Auror behind him measured his simplest actions. He could hear shuffling behind the door but it was a few seconds before it opened.

"Blaise," Draco greeted his housemate and then nodded politely at the Auror who transported him. He still was not sure whether to thank him for Apparating him here or to remain distant as to not provoke suspicion. It had never bothered Draco before because he never made an effort to befriend people, but now the looks of distrust made him hate himself for the actions he could not follow through.

Blaise's face fell slightly when he saw that it was Draco but then resumed his usual nonchalance.

"Hoped I was Loony Lovegood, did you?" he smirked at Blaise, following the scowling boy to his room. Without saying a word, he chucked the bag of clothing at Draco, inwardly amused that Draco would have to wear whatever he had bought him, regardless of his opinion.

"What's the deal with you and Lovegood anyway?" Draco asked while pulling out the clothes Blaise had chosen. He would not have picked them himself but he could not deny that the Italian boy had taste.

Theo decided to reply for Blaise, invading the room as well as the conversation. "Loony must have slipped him a Love Potion, that's the only way she'd get any." He cuffed Blaise around the head in a teasing manner but the boy remained impervious.

Theo's loud snorts had rattled down the corridor and into the open living space where the girls were sitting. Daphne and Pansy did not wish to hear about the degradation of a girl's attraction even if it was Lovegood they were discussing. Love Potions were for the pathetically insecure and despite the cunning label Slytherins owned, Pansy had used her authority as a Prefect to ensure that Slytherin girls never stooped so low.

Daphne sighed at his immaturity and thought it wise to reprimand him. She called down the hallway, "No need to be so crude Theodore." Her voice was full of disdain but she had no energy to remove it. Her patience had long since ran out with Theo.

He chuckled to himself at her use of his full name and then stuck his head out the doorframe to reply to his sweetheart, "Yes mother, I'll be sure not to talk to Muggles either." His sarcasm was laced with acridity rather than any humour and Pansy looked over worriedly at Daphne. Her friend was sighing heavily again but engrossed herself again in her book.

Blaise brushed Theo's hand from where it rested on his shoulder, "You can talk as much shit as you like but she'll never respect you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's saying drop the goddamn act, Theo. It's not funny anymore," answered Draco. "We all know why you're acting like this but you can drop the 'I don't care about anybody act.' You're hurting her and you just look stupid."

"I don't have feelings for Daphne," he muttered.

Blaise just snorted.

"What about you and Loony then? You're going all sappy on us." Theo switched from defence to offense to deflect the attention from his own amour.

"We're just friends, since when did you believe anything in the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Why were you so frustrated when you saw the paper then?" Draco was trying to decode his friend's unusual behaviour. Pansy had discussed it with him when he last came to the Accommodation two days ago, but it was a hard concept to understand after seven years of misanthropy.

_"Blaise doesn't hate everyone," said Pansy, perched on the desk chair in Theo's room. After she had finished comforting Blaise, she had decided to come and smother Draco as well. _

_Draco snorted, "He certainly acts as if he does." _

_Draco felt the bed dip as Pansy sat next to his head. The way she stroked his hair was reminiscent of his mother's behaviour when he was a child. It had been a long time since he was free of responsibility. _

_"It is easier to hate someone if they hate you and the easiest way to make them hate you is to hate them." _

_The blackness of his hate for Harry surfaced again and mixed with the white of Pansy's care, it blurred to a muddle of grey inside his head. "Pans, that's too much hate to deal with right now."_

_She carried on stroking his hair tenderly, "That's what I'm talking about. He told me Luna didn't hate him after the way he treated all of them. He doesn't need to hate anyone anymore and he's so fed up of this act that he's constructed."_

_Draco was fed up too, why waste time hating them for nothing? He saw the blood that trickled down Granger's arm when Bellatrix maimed her. It disgusted him that his aunt drew pleasure from her pain rather than from any superior satisfaction – there was no higher goal. _

_"It wasn't all a construct, he genuinely did not care a lot of the time." Draco did not know if he was talking about himself or Blaise. Hell, even Theo was legitimate for that comment. He was the most apathetic of the lot. _

_Pansy cut into his thoughts, "What did he have to care for? No stable father and a mother who cared more about wealth than she did about him." Her words reminded Draco of his own hollow upbringing and out the three of them, he was thankful he had a mother who cared. _

Blaise rose and stood in front of Draco, his eyes open and sincere, "Because she's the first person who didn't try to judge me or manipulate me. Draco, you meet someone who you feel you can trust and then you tell me you wouldn't be upset if someone abused their honesty." Blaise said.

"When did you become such a Gryffindor?" said Theo in a depreciating tone.

Blaise was usually ridiculing or indifferent but today he seemed invigorated. "When I grew up and realised that what house you were in doesn't define you for life."

* * *

**Part 13: Bowling**

_Evening, Saturday 23__rd__ May 1998_

It was a busy Saturday night, busy and hot enough for a drunk, relaxed aura. It reminded Tracey of a time when she was allowed to stay with her Muggle cousins and enjoy the delights of the Muggle world. At that age, staying out every summer night was delightful; now, the nostalgia was painful. She was back in her past but she was trapped in this bubble of tenseness, unable join in with the frivolity of Muggles.

Harry had sent them to collect shoes and it was amusing to watch Daphne and Pansy wince at the thought of wearing worn shoes. Tracey discreetly whispered a "_Scourgify" _and winked at the two girls. Tracey kept mainly to herself and they respected that distance. Neither girl would admit to it now, but they had looked down on the half-blood girl due to her lineage.

"Malfoy, do you mind coming over here for a minute?" Harry motioned to the blond haired boy to join him away from the group.

"Potter?" he tried to keep his tone calm but it was the little things about Potter that irritated him. Potter was so easily in charge, he managed the group and there was no doubt he was the leader. Draco may have controlled the Slytherins, but that was through fear and rank, no one was loyal to him in the same way they were to Potter.

Potter's eyes mocked him. Potter's green and his own silver: Slytherin colours. Even their physicality complimented each other, supported the House of the Snake. They could have been friends- with Potter's personality, they probably would have been.

Draco thought back to his conversation with Pansy a few days back- he did not need to hate Potter anymore, just like Blaise had snapped with Luna. Potter was still an almighty prat sometimes but he had helped his mother. Draco begrudgingly admitted Potter was automatically trustable even though Draco did not like him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to meet up again?" Potter put his hands in his pockets, posing nonchalantly for the photographer he knew was behind them.

Swallowing his pride and thinking of his mother for a change, Draco put on a smile and extended his hand. "This time it's on me, Potter." He could hear the clicks of the camera and felt a rush of satisfaction. He was shaking hands with the Chosen One, he was practically royalty now.

They walked back in a companionable silence, Draco buzzing from doing something deliciously different, trusting someone and acting like a Gryffindor for a change. Blaise's strange behaviour did not seem so strange anymore, it felt liberating.

They joined the others who were all awkwardly clumped away from the input device. Only Granger seemed to know what she was doing but she stood frozen, tapping the keyboard distractedly.

"We need to choose teams?" chipped in Tracey helpfully, her Muggle knowledge surprising those who did not know of her blood status.

"Right, okay," Granger looked blank. "Um Gryf-

"Boys vs girls?" Pansy cut in, trying to cover Granger's mistake.

The Gryffindor nodded hurriedly, thankful for a less antagonistic arrangement. She shot Harry a strange look that Draco could not decode before hastily inputting the names of the players. Her fingers fumbled over the keys and more than once a name had to be rewritten. Draco noticed that had Daphne not interfered, Granger would have entered the Slytherins' surnames. It was a small nuance but Draco had not anticipated Granger to be so hostile.

* * *

Millie stood at the back of the rabble of young adults looking thoroughly miserable in her new, red dress. Daphne and Pansy had dressed them up, but she could tell that they helped her just to get it over and done with. She felt woefully exposed without her usual robes to cover her and her tights were digging into the flesh of her stomach. She was half-tempted to ask the Auror to take her home but that would require finding him first and then excusing herself from the others. She did not want to deal with everyone pitying her.

On his way to order some drinks, Ron noticed the lonely girl and was instantly reminded of his Slytherin charge. Goyle had refused to come bowling with them, despite Pansy trying as hard as she could to convince him without forcing him.

Goyle's words about Crabbe kept reappearing in his mind and he subconsciously raised his hand to cover his neck where Goyle had pinned him to the wall. Everyone in his house was suffering as well, but they were all suffering together. Goyle had no one, even more so now when anyone who he could gain partial comfort from was here. No one, not even someone like Goyle, deserved to deal with the pain of losing the person closest to him. Ron knew he would be the same if it were Harry instead of Crabbe- it almost could have been. The guilt that he had managed to suppress had re-emerged in his stomach.

She looked thoroughly miserable by herself, a twin sulk to Goyle's face. Ron had not noticed the Slytherins being unkind, but they paid no attention to her. His quick glance around to check no one was watching him approach a Slytherin was unnecessary.

"Are you, are you okay?" Ron faltered a bit when she looked at him in surprise.

Her expression instantly changed to neutrality, trained in the ways of Slytherin to not wear her emotions openly. She internally chided herself for letting her guard down in public.

Millie nodded and tried to smile.

Ron nodded with her, "Good." He kept nodding awkwardly and asked the question he felt he should have asked ages ago. "How is Goyle doing? I just mean, last time I saw him he wasn't doing too well so I thought I would just ask?" He tried to keep his tone casual but Millie's eyes were downcast.

"He's not doing too well actually. I should probably go back and check if he is okay." She said them, the words that could possibly grant her freedom.

Ron dipped his head in agreement and offered to join her.

Millie was surprised to say the least, in her few interactions with Greg he had said he hated the Weasley boy so why he wanted to see Greg was perplexing.

Ron must have picked up on her frown because he replied, "I should probably check if he's alright as well."

* * *

Hermione stood to the side, watching the group with a glazed over face. It was easy for Daphne to sidle up behind her as she looked simply like another casual observer joining Hermione in her people watching. "Thank you," she whispered to the Gryffindor girl, barely moving her lips.

Hermione snapped her head around at the sudden voice and for once, her bushy curls did not go flying. Daphne's unkind remarks had been bothering her for days and they finally caused her to go to a Muggle drugstore to buy some conditioner. Sleakeezy's potion only worked in liberal quantities and Hermione did not have enough Galleons to pay for the inordinate price. She understood that many stocks had been destroyed and that potion ingredients were in short supply after the war, but even the most basic potion cost one Galleon and six Sickles, and that was far too much for something that barely lasted three applications.

"For what?" Her confusion was evident from the furrow lines between her brows.

"For being an inspiration," replied Daphne sincerely.

The uncertainty in her niceness was leaving Hermione on edge; Slytherins were not known for their altruism. "Why are you doing this?" she asked suspiciously.

Daphne took a calming breath, "I've already told you, I want to be friends."

"Well you haven't been acting particularly friendly have you?"

"What would you classify as friendly?" The corner of her mouth twitched up slightly, but the curious look in her eyes alluded to her seriousness.

"Not someone who forthrightly criticises me." There was a slight huff as her offense was exaggerated.

"Oh, I didn't realise Hermione Granger, war heroine, had a self-esteem so low she needed her friends to worship her feet." Daphne remarked.

Hermione turned to her affronted. "How dare you-"

"Grow up, Granger," interrupted Nott, coming behind Daphne and placing a possessive hand on her back. "Get that stick out of your tight arse and stop seeing everything as a goddamn fight; the war is over." _Thank Merlin it is._ He began to steer Daphne away but turned back to address Hermione a final time, "Oh, and don't talk to Daphne that way. She deserves better from you."

Pansy, turning to call Hermione for her turn, heard the altercation and the pause in her lilting voice caused others to turn around. It did not take long for her and Malfoy to join Daphne and Nott. Suddenly there was a front line and Harry, noticing the absence of his teammates, went over to support Hermione.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked delicately. His eyes probed everyone's stances, trying to deduce the severity of the issue.

"Granger just needs to learn to not be so fucking defensive all the time," said Nott. He spoke to Harry as if she was not even there and that wound Hermione up even more.

"With Death Eaters firing spells at me behind my back I'm sure you can forgive me for being jumpy," she raged.

Draco clenched his left fist when she mentioned his former title but kept a schooled expression like the others. To avoid contributing to the heat of the conversation, he broke rank and stood between the two groups.

"Daphne is not a physical threat to you in the way that a curse may be." He stepped forward, moving slowly in order to appease her defensive instinct. Once his hands hovered above her shoulders, he paused, and gently pressed down in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

Her breathing picked up; his deliberation made her feel like he was trying to provoke her into passivity. She felt powerless due to his lowered gaze and his light touch felt all too heavy. Her fists were shaking in an attempt not to step back and raise her wand.

Having a wand empowered the physically weaker and it enabled fights to be based on technical skill rather than brute force. Distancing the fight from your person can allow you to remain in control of your body when the situation is chaotic. Somebody taking that physical control away from her exposed Hermione to an event she could not win.

"Even physical contact does not have to be a threat," he whispered, trying to reassure her. He gently squeezed her shoulders to stop her shaking.

"We are not in a war anymore; no one is trying to attack you."

The irrational side to Hermione's brain did not believe that possible and searched his face for any clues of his deception.

His eyes betrayed him: they divulged not his amity, but his curiosity.

Her frown was still pronounced, but her grimace lessened as she exhaled slowly. She nodded gently at Malfoy who moved away from her at her acquiescence.

There was a collective exhalation as everyone shuffled back to continue the game. War was wearying.

* * *

**Part 14: Reconciliation **

_Evening, Accommodation, Saturday 23__rd__ May 1998_

Once at the Accommodation, Ron was not sure his offer of help was the right thing to do. He was mainly worried about how Goyle might react after last time, but he was also worried about how much worse Goyle might be as well. The pile up of mess in his room had been cumulative and it could have only become worse in the meantime.

Bulstrode had been quiet for their journey and Ron had been thankful for it. He felt awkward being around her but she just ignored his presence. At first, he felt anger at her indifference, but then he noticed her twisting hands and realised she was just as nervous as him. He pitied the girl and felt another rush of disdain towards the other Slytherins. How could they exclude her and Goyle in such a way?

He wanted to break the silence but all he knew about the burly Slytherin was that she owned a cat. "So, do you like cats then?"

"Cats?" She looked at him with lowered eyebrows, more than confused at the randomness of the question.

"I thought you used to have a cat?" Ron blurted out his reasoning, forgetting that it implicated him as a stalker.

Millie, however, was well aware of that and eyed him dubiously. "How do you know about that?"

Ron squirmed uncomfortably; her earlier uneasiness had disappeared and now her mistrust showed. "It's a long story, but Hermione took some Polyjuice Potion in second year and turned into your cat."

"_My _cat?" She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you sure it was mine? How do you know?"

"Bulstrode, it was your cat, we just know. The hair ended up on her robes after you duelled and she turned into a cat. Who else's cat could it be?" Ron sighed in exasperation, annoyed that he had let that slip and annoyed that Bulstrode was smart enough not to let it go.

"Fine." She said grumpily, not having the energy to argue further, and with Ronald Weasley of all people. She stomped out of the living space and disappeared into what Ron presumed was her bedroom. He made to knock on the door to say he was leaving but the door opened before he had a chance and Millie swept past him to find Goyle.

Her robes felt strange over bare legs after being so tightly constrained but in her comfort she barely noticed. Millie barged into Goyle's room without any of the careful knocking that had occurred last time Ron was here and sat on the floor next to Goyle, withdrawing a bag of Muggle popcorn from her robes as she did.

Both ignored the gaping Weasley and munched on the popcorn companionably.

"I would thank you for bringing me here but you owed him one." She fixed him with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, daring him to contradict her.

Ron could not believe that the girl he saw by herself earlier and this girl here were the same person.

Almost telepathically, she answered, "I'm still a Slytherin Weasley. Now go." Her small smile while she spoke said thank you and Ron nodded at her, and then at Goyle as well. He looked up, carefully regarded Ron and then dipped his head.


	6. Chapter Six: Disguised Relationships

_**Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.**_

**AN: I am so so sorry for taking so long to update. My grandma has been in hospital and I have been there most days, along with mocks and other things my school likes to throw at me to keep me busy. The next chapter is mainly written so it won't take as long as this one. **

**The style of writing used in the first section is a collection of one hundred word drabbles and I really enjoy that style of writing. I was inspired by **_**The Second Pair **_**by My Dear Professor McGonagall so go and check that out.**

* * *

**Defected**

**Part 15: The Pack Mother**

_Late morning, The Burrow, Sunday 24__th__ May 1998_

Hermione gazed out of the rain-spattered window, absentminded as her hands washed up the used knives and chopping boards in the sink. "I've asked Kingsley to switch me from Daphne."

"Is that so?" replied Ginny distractedly, trying to control the temperature of the soup with her wand. She would let the fire grow and then hurriedly extinguish the out of control blaze, dousing the flame so much it sputtered under Molly's army sized cooking pot. Ginny had managed this routine three times before Hermione had joined the conscious world and hastily fixed the flame height before the flames could crawl into the pot and irreparably ruin the cooking.

"Thanks Hermione," Ginny smiled gratefully at her friend and flopped on the floor, face flushed and exhausted from the heat. "Anyway, what were you saying?"

Hermione finished washing her hands and went to taste the soup, wincing a little at the absence of salt. After fixing the seasoning, she joined her friend on the floor, shaking her head a little at Ginny's apologetic smile.

"It could have been a lot worse and you know that Hermione."

"What, you could have forgotten the vegetables?" Hermione good-naturedly teased. "It wasn't bad actually; I've forgotten to put the salt in many times."

Ginny exhaled and leaned her head against the cupboard door. "I'm tired. Cooking is exhausting, I don't know how anyone would want to do it more than once a day."

Both rested for a while in companionable silence, listening out for the vigorous bubbling noise that meant the soup was boiling.

"Daphne cooks you know," Ginny paused, and although Hermione was slightly tense, she did not seem as hostile as she was the other day. "For all of them. Between her and Pansy everyone is well looked after. A bit surprising isn't it? The coldest hearted Slytherin girls caring for everyone."

Hermione shut her eyes, trying to block out any thoughts of the blond Slytherin she had begun to see as her antithesis. She knew Ginny was trying to give her a way out and gratefully took it, murmuring something in agreement to answer Ginny's comment.

Ginny had mentioned Pansy and Daphne in a highly casual way and along with something Luna had said about Ginny and Pansy being close seemed odd to Hermione.

"Gin, is Pansy your charge?" Part of Kingsley's pleading was to portray the Slytherins as charges who needed mentoring. Ron had begun to see Goyle, and even Bulstrode, in that way and it was remarkable to see how caring he could be.

Ginny did not know where to start with Hermione's inquiry. No was simply not the correct the answer, yet yes hardly seemed appropriate. Where to start with such narrow yet broad question?

* * *

"_Yes?" A snooty voice answered the door, figurative nose turned up at Ginny Weasley's scruffy clothes and unwashed hair: she was running errands, not modelling. It would be just like Parkinson to still look glamorous after everything. _

_Ginny ruffled her already messy bun with one hand and rolled her eyes at Parkinson's highbred class. "It's the milkmaid your highness," she quipped, placing an amused smirk on her face and a hand on her hip. "Now let me in, it's heavy."_

_Pansy allowed herself a smile and let the ginger-haired girl in at her insistence. She would be a fiery one._

* * *

_Ginny's normal ashen complexion was paler still as she came to drop the food off that morning, and along her subtle attempts to massage her back, it did not take Pansy long to clock what was going on. _

"_Chocolate?" She gracefully offered the box to Ginny before choosing her own. A brief anxiety of the safety of the treats passed her mind but Ginny immediately felt guilty at the worried look on Pansy's face. _

"_They're the finest chocolate, my mum sent them." Her eyes pled a silent acceptance._

"_As long as I don't turn into a canary, Parkinson, you're safe."_

* * *

"_What's this?" Pansy opened the bag to find, not food, but raw vegetables and a cookbook. She looked up at Ginny with a frightened expression. _

_Ginny simply smirked back, "You've got to learn some time." _

_Ginny softened a little at Pansy's stricken expression. "If it's any consolation we've all been subjected to it too. Life building skills my mum calls it."_

"_It's House Elf work, that's what it is," grumbled Pansy under her breath. _

"_You don't think House Elves have cooked all the food so far, have you?" questioned Ginny incredulously. _

_Pansy was too shocked to stop her mouth gaping._

* * *

"_Pack Mother," Ginny nodded in hello and swept to her usual stool in the kitchen. _

_Pansy followed, hands laden with the heavy bags of potatoes Ginny had dropped. "Why do you keep calling me that?"_

"_What? Pack Mother?" Ginny happily munched on an apple, feeling at home here as she did at The Burrow. _

_Pansy nodded in confirmation._

"_It's what you are, isn't it?" Perhaps not what she was, but maybe what she had become. Pansy had never been particularly maternal. Pack mother, really?_

_Pansy considered for second. "Hermes."_

"_What?" echoed Ginny. _

"_You're Hermes. You need a nickname in return."_

* * *

_The door had eerily opened, seemingly by itself, the culprit now sobbing on the sofa. _

"_Pansy?" Ginny shimmied over to the sofa and placed a comforting hand on her arm. _

"_My mother wishes me to join her in France." _

_Asides from her obvious discomfort, only her red-rimmed eyes showed any signs of difference. _

"_Would that be so much of a bad thing?"_

"_Even if I did want to marry, I'm not allowed to leave here."_

_Marry? The girl had just left a traumatic school experience. "Why?"_

"_The Ministry…" Pansy gulped down her snuffles, "Oh Ginny, was I really that bad?"_

* * *

Ginny cocked her head towards her friend and looked at Hermione with her honest, muddied eyes. "Hermione, I wouldn't even know where to begin. She's- She's more my friend."

Hermione stayed silent for a few moments, unsure of how to respond.

"Hermione-"

"Can you really be friends with someone like her, Gin?"

"Hermione-" Ginny started pleading, wanting to persuade her friend to a different opinion than the one she indicated from her dry tone.

Hermione cut in again, "Really, Gin? Someone like her?"

Her intentions seemed fruitless, Hermione seemed adamant in her position.

"You don't know her." She replied snootily. "She's not the same person."

"Leopards don't change their spots. She's just using you." Hermione tried to let Ginny down gently, but her stubbornness had erased most of her tact.

Ginny tried not to feel hurt at Hermione's insinuation, a small part of her reminding herself that it would not bother her unless she felt there was some truth in it. Pansy may have been many things in the past but Ginny did not think she could deny Pansy her caring side now.

"You're not the same person either." Ginny stood, stirring the soup in front of her, pausing to check if Hermione had responded to her words. There was a shocked expression on her face, but Ginny could not spare Hermione the compassion right now. She felt guilty but Hermione needed to wake up, she needed break out of this liminal space she was in and begin to live again. Not all had been so lucky to be spared.

* * *

**Part 16: The Prophet, Again**

_Lunchtime, The Burrow, Sunday 24__th__ May 1998_

Under Ginny's expectant watch, her brothers, after consulting each other on their possible death, each swallowed down a spoonful of Ginny's soup. After no one imploded or changed colour, they all concluded that the average soup was indeed wonderful, extraordinary, out of this world, simply exquisite, marvellous-

"Alright, that's enough now George." Molly interrupted the fountain of compliments that only came from George. "Hurry up and eat before Kingsley gets here, we need to have a meeting on this table."

Ginny mouthed a grateful thank you at Hermione and took her seat next to Luna, who was frowning intently at the window. Before anyone had realised what she was doing, Luna had vanished the glass to allow a bedraggled Errol to somersault through the frame and into the sink.

"Oh dear," Molly hastily pulled the soapy owl out of the sink and untied the _Sunday Prophet_, throwing the sopping paper at Ron.

Hermione cast a quick drying spell and steam rushed towards the ceiling.

"_Romance and Heartbreak_," read out Ron, "Blimey news is slow today."

"Give me that," Hermione snatched the paper out of his hands and scanned the article quickly.

_**ROMANCE AND HEARTBREAK**_

_Romance is ensnaring our beloved War Hero, Ronald Weasley, and turning him into a mockery. It seems we were wrong about him disagreeing with the Minister's scheme to befriend the Young Death Eaters (YDE) as he has been engaged in a romantic liaison with none other than Millicent Bulstrode. Her troll like appearance gives us no clues to the reasons behind the unlikely match and so we can only conclude that this is once again one of Kingsley's transparent attempts to delude us into accepting the dangerous YDE into our homes. _

_What has become of our beloved war heroine, Hermione? It seems her plain features and bossy, know-it-all attitude cannot sustain the interest of Mr Weasley. She'll have to polish her act and tame her birds nest if she does not wish to become a spinster and gain herself a successful husband._

_Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter are featured above, shaking hands in a cosy manner. It is at times like this that we have to question The Chosen One and remember his earlier misconducts. Has Mr Potter been working with Mr Malfoy this entire time to bring down Albus Dumbledore? Mr Potter spent much of the year before Dumbledore's death with the old man and may have weakened him in order for Mr Malfoy to deliver the killing curse. This is not a theory we can discount, my dear readers. _

_Look forward to more gossip on the YDE and our supposed heroes. _

Hermione was livid enough to screw up the article and throw it in the fire and it was only a quick intervention on Harry's part that prevented the destruction of the document.

Hermione paced as she ranted, "When I get my hands on her there is no way I'm letting her out of the jar this time, she can die in there for all I care, just wait until I find her again."

"Who?" Charlie and Bill were both bemused, neither fully hearing the story of the nosey beetle.

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione ground out.

Percy, knowing a lot about the reconstruction of internal jobs within the Ministry, including the Prophet, advised Hermione on the best course of action. "There is no way you can prove it yet, the article is unsigned and I presume she's writing remotely. Wait until we have more proof, we'll catch her."

Harry had now finished reading the crumpled article, "I'm in agreement with Hermione, she's a hag who wouldn't recognise the truth even if it wrote the articles for her." He chucked it at Bill who huddled with George to read the slander. "Apparently, I helped Malfoy kill Dumbledore."

The time had come for Kingsley's allotted meeting and the Minister was always punctual. "Malfoy didn't kill Dumbledore, I thought you said Severus did?"

The paper was passed down the table as a response, Ginny frowning when she saw the picture of Bulstrode and her brother. "Ron, what's this picture all about?"

"What picture?" Ron had his mouth full again and his words came out muffled. The picture was shown to him and Ron shrugged his shoulders in confusion. Clearing his throat, "I took Bulstrode back to the Accommodation to see Goyle because she was worried about him. I thought I would check on him as well. They seem to be friends. I have no idea what that's all about." He gestured to the cosy picture of Ron's arm around Millicent's shoulders.

Kingsley was mildly surprised at the mature response he received from Ron, but nodded regardless. "Probably some photo manipulation, I didn't expect the photographers to sell us out. I've brought the rest of the photos with me so we could collaborate a story but it seems an inside writer has already done so."

"The damage is going to take a lot to repair."

"Kingsley," began Ron, "I was thinking, what if the Slytherins did some of the repair work?"

Harry shot his friend a warning glance to shut up, due to his anger last time he brought this topic up.

Ron continued, ignoring Harry, "That way they could help with the numbers and the community might feel like they've made up for what they've done. It works both ways."

George gawked at his younger brother.

"What?" asked Ron, irritated at George's exaggerated shock.

"When have you ever said something that is clever?"

Ron hit his brother as the table erupted in laughter.

Kingsley looked dubious, wondering if he could trust them with such an important task.

Bill however, was of a difference opinion, "That's not actually a bad idea Ron, I'll see how we can do that." He leaned over and patted Ron back, the first positive encouragement Ron had received.

"Hermione, Harry, can I have a word with you please," requested Kingsley, "Oh, I forgot to mention to you all, I'm proud of you for fighting your prejudices."

After the table had been vacated by those not involved in the conversation, Kingsley began, "Hermione, I know you've requested to switch from Miss Greengrass after the incident yesterday, and Harry, Malfoy has asked to switch from you too."

Harry was confused; only yesterday Malfoy had joked with him about him taking the tab for the next meeting, so why had he suddenly changed his mind completely? "Why?"

"He requested it when I had a meeting with him the other day. And in light of this article, I suggest you switch with Hermione so that she is happy and the other pairings remain consistent."

They both nodded, not being able to think of a better alternative. Kingsley bid them both a good day and left.

"What did Kingsley want?" asked Ron coming down to find out the rest of the story.

"Malfoy wants to switch," said Harry.

Ron joined his best friends at the table, "Why? I thought you said he was being decent with you?"

"Well he was, I thought everything was fine." Harry replied.

"Harry, what's bothering you?" Harry seemed distant and more upset than Hermione thought he was showing.

"I don't know." He raked his hand through his hair, "That article about me is like fifth year all over again and I'm confused about Malfoy. He seemed to want to be friends yesterday… When did he change his mind?"

Hermione ever the pragmatic, rationalised with him, "Well I doubt Kingsley met with him today, and last night is unlikely as well, so it must have been before the bowling yesterday. He must have changed his mind."

"But what if he just made it up for the papers?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," blurted out Ron. "He's a Slytherin, we all know they're going to save their hides before anything else."

They all knew it was futile to try to correct Ron's statement, they believed it true - Pansy had been a proof of that.

"Hermione are _you_ okay?" Harry enquired. Hermione had looked tired and worn out since the war had ended, but she made the effort to check on the two boys and they felt a duty to do the same.

She sighed, "I'm the same; the article upset me, but it's no worse than Skeeter's usual rubbish. I just thought we would get peace now. And I'm not thrilled about pairing with Malfoy, Daphne may have been annoying but Malfoy is bound to be worse."

Harry reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, "Malfoy's been fine with me, I see no reason why he wouldn't be with you."

* * *

**Part 17: Baby Steps **

_Simultaneously, The Accommodation, Sunday 24__th__ May 1998_

The kettle was boiling and the juice pouring itself into four neatly set glasses on the breakfast table. To fill her otherwise unoccupied time, Pansy had taken up a somewhat domestic role, making sure that the food was prepared and everyone had eaten.

Daphne was the first to join her; it was late in the day and her stomach demanded some food. They had spent most of the previous night talking over what had happened, their gossip on the others lasting well into the morning.

Daphne smiled at her friend when she saw the cut grapefruit already laid out on her plate. "You're amazing, you know that. How you get everyone's favourite foods I have no idea."

"I have my secrets," giggled Pansy as she levitated the popped toast from the toaster onto her plate.

Once Pansy was satisfied that everyone had everything they would need, she gathered another plate and a cup of tea, "I'm just going to give Greg his breakfast- Oh, Greg, you're here."

For the first time since they had been assigned their residence, Goyle entered a room other than his own and the bathroom. He stood tense, uncomfortable under the surprised gazes of his fellow detainees.

Pansy chirped "Good morning" at him, encouraging Daphne to do the same. Goyle responded with a minute but grateful smile, putting a couple of empty mugs in the sink before taking the plate from Pansy. "Thanks." It was a small gesture, but a huge improvement from solely grunts and head shakes.

As soon as he had left, both girls grinned at each other, delighted that Goyle had improved even if only by a tiny amount. "Pansy, I think you're good for him."

"Really?" Pansy was not affected by false modesty, but rather uncertainty in the success of her new role.

Daphne nodded sincerely, fully supportive of this new, more considerate Pansy. She supposed Pansy was attracted to the wounded, perhaps to compensate for the actions of the side she was born into.

Blaise was next to arrive and carried with him the _Sunday Prophet. _He passed it to Daphne along with an apology, "Sorry, didn't mean to go in your room but the bloody owl would have scratched the window away if I hadn't let it in."

While Pansy added some bread to the toaster, Daphne unravelled the paper, not needing to even open the paper to find what she was looking for.

Murmuring to herself, "Oh Millie, I'm so, so sorry." She looked up, needing to seek Pansy's reassurance. "It's going to devastate her to read this. She's already so fragile."

Blaise had no idea what Daphne was talking about, Millie was huge, it would take more than a flimsy newspaper to knock her down. He gently teased the paper out of Daphne's fingers while the two girls quietly conferred on the best way to tackle the situation.

The article was as full of much shit as the first. Blaise had to laugh at the author's pathetic attempts to tarnish all of their reputations, while still sucking up to the 'War Heroes'.

Pansy scowled at his joviality, "Great way to support us Blaise, the situation isn't funny."

He unsuccessfully tried to smother his chuckles until Pansy stabbed him in the stomach with his plate, treating him to a piece of toast in the shape of a hat. "Um thanks Pansy, it's a…"

"Sorting Hat. So you can sort yourself if you'd like."

Blaise looked at her weirdly, "Have you had a spirit transfer with Luna?"

"No, but she gave me the idea." Blaise continued frowning. "I owled her to talk about you and she recommended this."

At the thought of others discoursing behind his back, Blaise shut down to his previous self, his fists were clenched and short exhalations exited his nostrils. People did not care about him; that was the life he lived. If they did not care about him, then he did not have to care about them and caring only led to being weak. People talking about him behind his back gave them power over him, they were discussing his life, it was not just his to care about anymore.

He looked down at the wonky triangle on his plate and was tempted to fling it at Pansy's head. Even as she trembled in front of him, it was out of worry that he was upset rather than fear. Blaise took deep breaths, trying to maintain his composure, ashamed he had unsettled Pansy when she had only been trying to help.

Unfortunately, when Theo entered, Blaise's still clenched fists were the first thing that alerted him to dispute. "Oh Pansy, why the fuck did you have to piss him off so early in the morning. He's already pissed off about the She-Weasel always coming here." As usual, Theo's volatile temper was coupled with sparks of things he was not meant to reveal.

Blaise turned towards his friend with a murderous gaze, anger sparked once again. "Get out."

Theo prepared for a fistfight, his own anger and pride refusing to let him miss an opportunity to blow some steam. What he really wanted to punch to death was the black cloud hovering above his head, but that was not tangible and Blaise would do him justice in the meantime.

"Stop."

There was nothing loud or piercing about Daphne's voice, but as soon as the tableaux froze, the tension broke. This was not an isolated bubble, pockets conflict kept popping up and she had had enough.

"Blaise, people will talk about you behind your back because they care about you. Haven't we just spoken about Millie here?"

Blaise nodded reluctantly.

Daphne continued, "Tell us if something is bothering you so that we do not have to figure it out by ourselves. We have no one to report your weaknesses to; do you think we would do that anyway? We were just told that so we would be isolated and easily led. You cannot get angry every time someone mentions something that upsets you. If it is the Slytherin sensibility of not showing your weaknesses that helps you then so be it, but sort it out."

Theo laughed dryly and kicked the table leg. His anger had not yet broken and it was emitting puffs and wisps of hot steam to inflict as much damage as it could.

"Theo, can you please go to your room and wait for me-

"Daph-"

She turned to him with a finality that was not to be debated. "Go."

She finished addressing Blaise before dealing with the other troublemaker, "You've seen what his anger does to him. It'll burn you first before you get to burn others." She followed Theo out, trying to remain calm so that she could exert some authority over the angry boy.

As soon as she entered the room he exploded, words flying out of his mouth in protest at his childish punishment. She held at a single hand to stop him and indicated for him to sit.

He complied; they both already knew that he would do what she commanded. Closing his eyes, he took deep, shuddering breaths as she gently massaged his shoulder muscles. Theo may have surrendered but his body had not, residual stress causing lingering tenseness in his back.

Daphne continued kneading her fingers, "It will keep coming back if you don't get rid of whatever is causing you to lash out."

Theo groaned, ignoring her implicit request to talk. His head was still swirling with his unnecessary argument with Blaise and Daphne's proximity only increased that mayhem. It had been so long since she had willingly interacted with privately and he had no clue to her intentions.

He groaned again, this time, with less frustration. "If you'll do this every time then I don't care."

Daphne stilled on his back and Theo thought she would leave and say she was never coming back.

As predicted, her small hands lifted from his body and she shuffled away from him.

"Theo…" There was a mixture of warning in voice and disgust that she had not intended to release. If Theo could imagine hard enough he could pretend there was longing in there as well.

"I'm going to finish my breakfast; Pansy will be upset if you do not join me."

Why could she not say it, why could she just not say that it was _she_ that wanted him to join them?

Daphne was a hypocrite for telling Blaise to open up when she refused to.

"You're a cold hearted bitch, Daphne."

She stilled in the doorway, posture rigid and tense. Theo stalked over to her, placing his right hand possessively on her waist and his left mimicking her caresses from earlier. "What will it take to melt you, Daphne?" He whispered in her ear, deliberately trying to unsettle her and achieving it with his warm breath against her neck.

Daphne did not reply that his proximity already had her body on edge and she was struggling to control the shaking. She would normally never let anyone manhandle her in the way that Theo was, but his hands were more tentative than they looked and she knew he would stop if she said. Truth be told, her brain was not functioning enough to tell him to stop, she had frozen because she did not know what to do. If she resisted he may never be this forward again and then she would have to work to regain their relationship, but if she complied… She refused to simply be a conquest, a device to remove his anger.

Her body still had not responded and Theo removed himself from her, feeling awkward and uncomfortable for forcing himself like that when she was not interested.

"Daph, at least talk to me, normally, don't do this to me," he was pleading with her now. "I'm sorry, you're not cold at all." When he buried his head in her neck this time it was simply for comfort. He had done it countless of times before and Daphne wrapped her arms around his, drawing them tighter around her.

The familiarity was comforting for Daphne and she acquiesced to Theo, "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for treating you like a child."

He hugged her even tighter in response, forgiving her instantly. They always ended up like this after arguments. This was them as friends: solid and dependably annoyed by the other. Even they could not quite understand the strange relationship they had, but it was better than being alone; that was all that mattered.

* * *

**AN: A lot of this chapter was very difficult to write, so if there's anything that doesn't make sense or needs changing please tell me. Thanks for reading.**


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